Dream
by TheOpal13
Summary: **ONESHOT** She was Skye's daughter. Skye's. Not Ward's. Ward was a traitor. Ward was a terrorist. Ward was a lot of things, but he was definitely not a father.


**A/N: Ignore the fact that I have no idea when Skye and Ward…er…****_conceived, _****and I have never given birth so this is me…guessing. Sorry if this is totally awful and I'm sorry about errors. I also don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.**

* * *

_"These dreams under my pillow, in the twilight of these white nights." _–Oh Land

She kept seeing him. The way he looked at her when they brought him into custody. The way his eyes almost automatically sank down onto her swollen abdomen. The way his jaw dropped in shock. Every damn time she closed her eyes. It kept her from sleeping.

That, and she was hungry.

She got up and headed for the kitchenette. She pulled a box of Cheetos out and began eating them. Before she knew it, the bag was gone.

"Ugh," she groaned. "You better have enjoyed that, because _I _feel like puking." The baby kicked. "Yeah. I'm sure that was a great experience for you." She frowned before dashing to the bathroom and throwing up an orange, gross mess. "You'll pay for that. Someday." She suddenly felt _very_ tired, so she shuffled off to her bunk, lying down in her bed and pulling the blanket over herself.

She saw him again, his eyes flitting down to her stomach, full of regret. His eyes, so sad that they looked almost dead. His eyes, looking at her, _pleading_ for forgiveness. His eyes looking at her.

They were wild. His face was ragged and he had grown a stubble. He was so shocked with those wild, sorrowful eyes that just looked at her. Those calm beautiful eyes that had turned into eyes so dark and so hopeless and so lost that they almost frightened her. Those eyes in her dreams that were forever preserved into her mind. Those wild, _wild_,eyes that—

The door to her bunk slid open, and her hand flew to her stomach on instinct. Jemma was there.

"He wants to see you. You don't have to."

"I don't want to. Tell him no." Jemma nodded and Skye waved goodbye.

* * *

And so it went on. Each night, she would see his eyes. Each morning, he would ask for her.

She finally said yes.

She would go in and talk to him. Under the condition that May or Triplett could be in there with her. Coulson advised that Triplett go because May would happily rip his throat out otherwise. So Trip followed her in the room where an exhausted looking Grant Ward was sitting at the table. He jumped up, but his handcuffs held him back.

She flinched at his attempt to come near her, a hand flying to her stomach. Trip pulled out an ICER and Ward sat back down.

"You're pregnant," he said, totally dumbfounded.

"Well _shit. _He still has the knowledge of a level seven. Congrats," she muttered sarcastically.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Girl."

"Is it mine?" She didn't respond. "Is it mine?" She exploded, jumping out of the chair.

"Of course she is! Who else do you think would screw?" He didn't answer.

"What's its name?" he asked finally.

"Her," she snapped.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"_Her _name. Not _its _name. And we don't have one yet."

"Oh."

She suddenly turned to Trip. "I wanna leave now." He nodded.

"Skye, wait. I want to know what happens. I'm its father."

"You're no father," she answered before hissing, "traitor," at him. "Goodbye, Ward," she snarled.

Skye gave birth in October. Although Simmons was doing very well, Skye was swearing at her as she grabbed onto the sides of the bed.

"That _fucking _bastard is going to pay for knocking me up!" she screeched.

An hour later, her baby was born.

"What's its name?" Fitz asked.

"I don't know," she said, a look of worry crossing her face. "What's your name? Abby? I like the ones that start with an A."

"What about Ava?" Simmons suggested. "The woman that rescued you had the last name Avery. Ava is kind of similar."

"That's pretty. I like it. Do you like it, Ava?" the crying baby was taken away by Simmons, who needed to check her. "That's perfect. Ava…middle name Jemma…I dunno. Can she have two middle names? She's my child, so whatever. I say Ava Jemma May last name I don't know or care about." She grinned.

"You know, she has your face. She'll probably be really stubborn, like her parentage," Fitz commented.

"She probably will," Coulson agreed.

"Great," Skye remarked sarcastically. "Wow. I feel kind of gross yet proud at the same time. I just carried a living thing inside me besides the flu virus."

"She's perfectly healthy," Simmons called, referring to the child.

Skye smiled.

Two days later, after being released from the makeshift delivery room, Skye and Simmons went shopping, Fitz even coming. He bought the most, actually.

Simmons helped with what the baby would need—towels, clothes, blankets, furniture. Fitz bought everything that Ava wouldn't need. Like, um, shoes, tutus, and a monkey hat.

"Fitz!" Simmons scolded. "Is she really going to need that?"

"She might," he replied with a shrug. Simmons just shook her head and moved on to bottles.

"Even though you're breast feeding, it's good to have bottles and formula."

"Oh my God!" Skye squealed, holding up a bib with a red convertible on it. "Coulson would die."

* * *

Coulson did almost die. It was funny. Fitz insisted on changing Ava's outfits all the time.

"Fitz! What is this…the sixth outfit?"

"What!? She's adorable. Like a monkey."

"My monkey!" Skye joked, snatching her away. Baby Ava showed a gummy smile.

"We have a situation!" May said, bursting into the lab. Skye hugged her baby closer and looked at May. "Not that kind. Ward wants to see the baby."

"Hell no!" Skye yelled, in unison with Fitz bellowing "No way!" and Simmons shouting "That ungrateful bastard!"

"I'll tell him no, then," May said, wheeling around.

* * *

Instead of asking for her daily, he asked to see the baby. Finally, Simmons decided to do something very bad.

She took pictures of Ava every day at least twice, telling Skye she was assembling a photo album. She was, technically. Just, for Ward, not Skye. Ava was a month old when it was full. She wrapped it in paper and asked Trip to bring it to Ward.

"This better not be a gift," he told her.

"He deserves it."

Fitz, who had been in on it, watched as Ward opened the package through the grainy screen of the security camera. He tore it open and ripped off the bubble wrap to see the simple black book. On each page were four pictures. He went over them slowly, taking time to look at every single one. He absorbed them, poring over them like a fanboy or something. He would look over them every day. It took him a week until he reached the last page, and an envelope fell out. A letter.

It was from Simmons. He read it. It gave Ava's statistics. Height, weight, everything. Then it explained why she had her name, everything. It was perfect.

And then Skye found out and all hell broke loose.

"You both knew? He isn't the father, dammit! He left me! He abandoned me to be a terrorist. He chose killing people over his daughter! He doesn't get to know!" With that, she marched into the interrogation room, briefly forgetting that Ava was in her arms, and ripped the book out of his hands.

"Is that—" he started before the door slammed in his face. He closed his eyes and waited.

* * *

When Ava was six months old, Skye sent a note.

_Ward, _

_ My daughter is doing fine. Here is one picture you get. _

_-S_

He flipped the note over to see the picture of Ava surrounded by the team wearing the bib with the red convertible, a black outfit, the monkey hat, and a smile.

Every few weeks, a new picture would come, each with a note.

_Ward, _

_ Here's Ava._

_-S_

The photograph was one of Fitz holding her, hands pulling his hair and the monkey hat still on her head. She was pretty, like her mother. They went on, each coming every three weeks on Friday. It went on for a year.

Then they stopped.

Ward asked Triplett, who didn't respond, but eventually, Fitz slipped a note in.

_Her first word was "Dada."_

Ward understood.

Eventually, they came back, slowly. Then almost weekly. He kept them all together.

The following October, Ward heard the door click open. A garbling sound and hushed voices came from the other side, arguing until the door cracked open enough for him to see May, Triplett, Skye, and the baby. "Ten minutes," May said. Ward looked at his daughter. She was making incoherent noises and waving her hands around. Skye looked at him.

"Wanna hold her?"

"Definitely." He picked up the child like she was a flower, being so careful with her. He stared at her in shock. "Her birthday, right? And her name is Ava?"

"Like Avery. The agent that rescued me. And the Avengers."

"Middle name?"

"Jemma May."

"Last name?"

She glared. "I don't have one. And no way is it gonna be Ward, so forget about it. I was thinking Coulson, because he's kind of like a father to me."

"That's nice."

"Ten minutes!" May barked, and Skye grabbed Ava back.

"Goodbye, Ward."

"Bye dada," Ava mumbled. The words almost killed Skye.

Then the door closed.

* * *

He was her guardian angel. He was the one that walked up when bullies were around and scared them away when she was in second grade. He was the one that punched the guy that stood her up in high school. He was the one that offered to do a lecture at her school about why drugs were bad when she was sixteen. He was the one that bought tickets to her school play when Skye was away. He loved her, even from afar.

But she never knew.

And that was okay. Her life was better without him.

Right?

A/N: Review?


End file.
